


A Failure to Communicate

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets fed up with all of Blair's doubletalk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Failure to Communicate

(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "The Sentinel." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author. 

Contains m/m relationship. I'm too tired to figure out what rating to give it, but it's not explicit. Of course, I *do* use the word "screw" a lot. 

For Mirna, for suggesting the whole thing ... 

## A Failure To Communicate

by Katrina Bowen

"All right. Just relax and listen to my voice. Tell me what you feel." 

Jim took a deep breath and tried to focus. He picked up one of the dozens of screws scattered on the table. "I feel -- Damn." Opening his eyes, he dropped it. "Come on, Chief. It's one thing to be able to detect the different thread patterns. How am I supposed to remember them all?" 

"It's certainly not impossible, Jim. Hold on, I wrote a few things down earlier. I think I know what we need to do." Blair started flipping through his notes. 

Jim nodded decisively. "So do I. We stop this for a while, have a few beers, watch the game, maybe fool around a little, and try again later." He pushed his chair back and stood up, heading for the refrigerator. "You want something while I'm up?" 

"No, Jim, we're on the verge of a break-through here." Blair took Jim by the elbow and steered him back to the table. Jim rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be pushed into his chair. Leaning over him, Blair picked up one of the screws and dropped it into Jim's hand. "I think you have to synthesize a new connection to your space." 

Carefully, Jim turned the screw over in his fingers and examined it minutely. "So you think I should synthesize a new connection to my space." 

"Right. Your *metaphorical* space, of course." Blair pulled a chair next to Jim and sat down. 

"Oh, yeah... My *metaphorical* space. Right." Jim looked at Blair patiently. "Remind me, okay? Just how is that different from my actual space? Help me out here and rephrase that, could you?" 

Blair shrugged. "I'm just talking about a simple paradigmatic shift, man." 

"Sandburg..." Jim took the screw delicately between his fingertips and laid it on the table. "Once more. What is it you want me to do?" 

"Oh." Blair pushed his glasses up and grinned. "All I mean is, you need to start seeing the world in new patterns. That'll help you to engage the process of formatting the sensory input into more accessible mental compartments. If I'm right, that should reduce the cognitive dissonance you're experiencing --" 

"Whoa. Back up there. When did we stop speaking English?" Jim leaned back and glared at his partner. 

Blair blinked owlishly and frowned a little. "I don't get it. What are you talking about?" 

Running a hand over his hair, Jim tried to calm down. "No, I think that's *my* line. What the hell is cognitive dissidence?" 

"Dissonance," Blair supplied helpfully. "All that means is that you're experiencing a conflict between your expectations and your reality." Jim stared back steadily, and Blair tried again. "Look, man. You *think* you can't process all this data, so when you try to do it, your hard-edged neurological wiring short-circuits. If you convince yourself that you *can* do it, then you'll be able to." 

Jim looked at him, plainly skeptical. "You mean that if I stop thinking I can't do it, I'll be able to remember the thread patterns on these screws?" 

"Well ... yeah. If you want to put it that way," Blair trailed off unhappily. 

"If you don't mind." Jim picked up another screw. 

Blair picked up a screw of his own and scowled at it. "So I suppose you don't want to hear about the latent divergence of environmental and societal duality." 

"You're making this up as you go along, aren't you?" 

Blair dropped his screw to the table. "Of *course* I'm not making it up!" 

"Blair, none of what you're saying would make any sense to anyone who isn't an academic. It has nothing to do with the real world." 

"Excuse me?" Blair's spine stiffened, and he sat up very straight. "Maybe *you* should rephrase *that*." 

Before Blair could get any angrier, Jim said, "I'm not saying that what you're doing isn't important, and I'm not putting down your line of work or anything. But don't you think that if you didn't use the doubletalk all the time, people would be able to relate to scientists better?" 

Blair snorted. "Oh, coming from a walking, talking mythological archetype --" 

"You're doing it again." 

Blair snorted again. Looking down at the table, he muttered, "I *like* doubletalk." 

"Why?" Jim looked at the other curiously. 

Confused, Blair looked up. "Why what?" 

"Why do you like doubletalk?" Jim kept his voice as rational as possible. "There must be a reason you use it, right?" 

"Of course there's a reason. It's just -- it makes sense, okay?" He lifted one shoulder in a brief shrug and started scooping the screws into a pile. "If you know what it means, it's perfectly --" 

"AHA!" Jim grinned and stood up. 

"Aha what?" Blair looked up, his expression dark and as forbidding as he could make it. 

Jim beamed down and started pacing behind Blair. "It makes sense *only* if you know what it means. And you only know what it means if someone *tells* you what it means." 

Blair turned around reluctantly. "Yeah...." 

"AHA!" Jim took a beer out of the refrigerator and opened it. 

"I *really* wish you'd stop saying that, man," Blair sighed. 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Jim took a drink from the bottle. "The doubletalk is one of those group cohesion things you're always talking about. A way of keeping outsiders just that: outsiders. So tell me, does each branch of science have its own secret handshake? Are there special anthropology decoder rings?" 

Blair shook his head. Standing up, he gathered his notes into a pile. "Fine, laugh at me. Make jokes, Jim, I'm just here to amuse you, right?" 

"Nah." Setting his beer on the counter, Jim walked over to where Blair was standing and wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Blair stiffened and moved as if to pull away, but Jim just tightened his grip. He murmured into the dark curls, "You're here to help me. You're here to make me complete. And you're here to be loved." Releasing Blair, Jim turned him around. Putting his hand over his heart, he said sincerely, "I tease because I care, love." 

Blair looked away, then back. "You tease because you're a jerk." 

"That, too." 

Shrugging, Blair smiled slightly. "So I guess you don't want to hear about the essential conflict between individual perception and the expectation of -- umph." He put his arms around Jim's neck as the big man lifted him without warning. "I guess not." 

"Nope. Don't even want to watch the game." Jim turned around and headed for the stairs. 

"Wow." Blair raised his eyebrows in mock amazement. "Contrition at its finest. You're even giving up the Seahawks for me?" 

"Wellll..." Jim hesitated, then continued upstairs. "Maybe just this once." 

Blair laughed. "You hopeless romantic, you."   
  


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